Like two enormous eyes, the windows overlooked the street. Water had stained the sills and run down the front, leaving streaks, resembling large brown tears. I pressed my nose hard against the window and shaded my eyes. A lone light was shining. There was someone inside.
On my right was a tall door and in black printing, the hours of the business were plainly spelled out. I had passed the door many times before but the enclosed contents remained beyond my reach. I was not allowed in! Some day … and then finally the day arrived. With my mouth dry and my palms sweating, I reached high for the knob of the tall door.
The room revealed was very long and narrow. On the left were rows of shelving that seemed to reach even beyond the ceiling. Along the way were wide wooden tables and tall straight-backed chairs. A railing separated me from the shelves but ahead was an opening where a sturdy oak desk stood. Behind it sat a grey-haired woman with round, wire-rimmed spectacles. My presence didn’t seem to disturb her as she continued to write. I wondered if she could hear the sound of my heart pounding, above the scratching noise of her pen nib.
“I’d like to take out a library card, please.” I timidly whispered.
“You have to be able to WRITE your name, you know,” she said with an stern voice.
I nodded briefly and she passed me a manila coloured card and a long tapering pen. With shaking fingers I dipped the nib into the ink-well and painstakingly wrote my name across the top of the card. The ink splattered but I quickly covered the splotch with the blotter nearby.
She glanced at the card briefly. “Follow me,” she instructed.
An odor of oiled wood floors, paper and ink seemed to permeate the room, and my courage waned as I was led to a dark corner. The Librarian slowly reached up and pulled the string on a single hanging light bulb.
Suddenly the darkness vanished and there before me stood row upon row of the treasures I had come to claim. I knew hidden inside each one was the culmination of all my wildest fantasies.
Finally, with resignation, I chose two, settling the others back on the shelf. I handed the books to the Librarian.
“They are due back in 14 days,” she admonished, “and there is a charge of a penny a day if they are late.”
I met her eyes and said “thank you.” Then clutching my books I eased myself towards the door.
I looked back into the room. It no longer looked scary. It seemed transformed, almost friendly. The door knob turned under my hand …It was a knob I was to turn for many years to come for it had opened the door to new friends, new adventures and enough dreams to fill the heart of any child.
